Life and Death
by Wintreaux
Summary: Life is a ho, and Death is actually sweet but when they get together, it's cosmic. - AU - Penny/Sheldon - Drabble -


**Life And Death**

The blonde smirked as she placed a gentle hand on the wounded man's heart.

He started gasping for breath as the small hole in his chest started to close, the bullet that was once lodged in it moved in reverse and fell to the ground with a loud _clank!_ the only proof he had ever been injured, being the blood soaked shirt he wore.

He opened his green eyes, what once was filled with dull light as his life slipped away, now was filled with hope and gratitude. He reached out and held her wrist, "Please, I don't know how I could ever repay you?" He felt eternally grateful, this woman…this _goddess_ had just saved his life. Why did she do that? Why was he deserving of a second chance?

She was life. No, she really was _Life. _She roamed earth for many centuries, fulfilling her duties and she never grew tired of it. She saved lives and made lives daily. For every child born, and person saved it was her doing.

The ones she saved always felt the need to repay her afterwards.

She smiled at the black-haired man and helped him to his feet, "I could think of one way you can repay me."

The eager woman led the bloody man into her apartment and showed him exactly what he could do to repay her. And he did, he repaid her all night; for her healing him had given him a new energy he never possessed before.

She never interfered with people or things that were meant to die. However, this man wasn't. He had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she knew he wouldn't make it to the hospital, so she took matters into her own hands.

* * *

The tall man stood far in the background, dressed in black from head to toe. His eyes fresh with unshed tears. He had learned to stop crying at these things, but he could never stop himself from tearing up. He hated his _gift_.

Everywhere he went, death followed. He supposed it was because he was Death. Literally, _Death_.

He completely despised having to end people's or things lives, but he knew it was a part of the job. It was a crucial one too. If one day he decided to stop, the world would be completely over populated. Even for just one day, on average one-hundred-fifty-one-thousand people die. In an entire year fifty-five million people die, the world would be in crisis if he decided to stop doing his job.

Despite hating it, he knew it had to be done.

He walked away from the funeral, and down the street to his apartment. He closed his eyes at the sound of a car accident, two dead. A father and his five-year-old daughter. He shuffled away quickly. As he was about to enter his apartment building, a bird flew into the door – hard. He bent to the bird and watched as it struggled to breath, its wings stuttering. He hovered his hand over the animal and when he looked at it once more, it had stopped breathing.

He sighed and stood to his feet, continuing to his apartment.

Just as he reached, his neighbors door opened, and a bloodied man stumbled out. He frowned and looked back at his rambunctious neighbor. Her hair was in a wild messy bun, and she wore nothing but a silk robe that was slightly drawn at her waist as it exposed her lengthy legs and stomach. It covered just enough of her breast to not be showing her nipples, a part of her body he knew well.

"Fun night?" He asked as he leaned against the doorframe, taking in every inch of her exposed skin.

She smirked as she watched him run his eyes over her body, "I'm assuming it could get better."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Somebody you know?" She gestured to his dark clothing choice; aware he was at a funeral.

He shrugged, "Don't I know them all?"

Her smirk widened, "Sorry I couldn't have been of any help."

He rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the doorframe, "As if you could be."

They weren't allowed to interfere with the other's work. If a man or woman were meant to die, they would die. If they were meant to live, they would live. They never made the rules, they didn't get to pick and choose who lived and who died, but they always just _knew_. It was as if it were written in the stars and predetermined.

She knew he was referencing the hardest night either of them experienced since migrating to Los Angeles.

_He once had a roommate, short in stature and obnoxious in dialect. He had spent endless of nights trying to woo their blonde neighbor. But of course, nothing worked she had seen so many things in her lifetime of thousands of years. So many men have tried to win her affection, so nothing he did was new. _

_One night, he had stolen chemicals from work and brought them home. He was determined to play scientist in front of her, and what started as a normal Thai food night quickly ended in disaster. The taller roommate ushered all their friends (except his neighbour) out, and told them they were going to call 911, and they did. After he did what he had to do._

_Of course, once his short roommate came home with the chemicals, he knew he was going to die. Though, he couldn't interfere. It was already written and predetermined. _

_So, he let it happen._

_She tried to save him, tried to interfere with his work, and she almost did. She brought him back for a split second, he had muttered something about wanting to impress her and how he wouldn't leave her like this. He'd come back for her. _

_But before she could fully heal him a blinding light appeared and both she and the tall man were berated intensely for interfering with what was already written. That's when they realized their jobs were a lot more than just jobs. _

She rolled her eyes at his accusation, "Are you going to come inside or not?"

He sighed deeply but walked into her apartment anyways, already loosening the tie around his neck as she grinned and pulled him in by his hand.

Life is a ho, and Death is actually sweet but when they get together, it's cosmic.


End file.
